Three hundred and sixty five days
by shadowcrow
Summary: Harry died, Ginny lived on, but as a hollow shell, now a year after her husbands death she visits his grave and finds out more then she ever expected to. SLASH HD


Disclamer: Not mine, not even close.

Warning: Slash well-implied slash.

Ginny's eyes fluttered open. Grey light flooded in from the window. Rain ran down the glass in flowing streams. Ginny rose from her bed and yawned. She walked to the closet and shuffled through a growing pile of dirty clothes until she found her bath robe and walked to their bathroom.

She moved slowly, scared to shake the fragile, but calmer then she had been in days, state of mind. Seven days. She had survived seven days without him, but she was still so unsure if she could make it alone. She filled the tup with hot water and reached for the top shelf of her medicine cabinet. She jumped back in alarm as a large greenish blue bottle fell from the shelf and shattered in the sink. Ginny breathed in and out and closed her eyes as the smell of the cologne that Harry used to wear fill the tiny room.

Tears poured down her cheeks and she sank to the floor in a helpless heap, sobbing uncontrollably into the carpet. She felt heavy as she climbed to her feet near an hour later, she preformed a reheating spell on the water and undressed. She paused just long enough to see her self in the mirror. She had done nothing but lie in their . . . her bed and cry. She didn't even recognize the person looking back at her, eyes wide and puffy, cheeks skulking from her lack of diet, her beautiful red hair in greasy strands about her face. But the worsts were her eyes, empty of hope or happiness, hollow. She looked into the sink, the bottle shards gleaming. She reached down and picks a piece with part of the label still attached, she held it for a moment then pressed it to her lips.

In an instant she was back in time, just two weeks before, with Harry happily spending time with her new husband, kissing him, holding him, fighting just so they could be makeup. He came home from the ministry smelling of the cologne, of sweat, and the sharp metallic sent of ink. And then she was back in the bathroom, tub overflowing and the sent of Harry near her lips. He was there. Haunting her, his laugh, his smile, his glances, they were all here.

"Just leave me alone!" She screamed, "Leave me alone." She sobbed and hiccuped. "It's not fair! He was only 21, he defeated the dark lord, help tons of people rebuild their lives, he was a hero! Why did you take him?" She demanded of the universe. She sobbed and fell into the bath, despite scorching water. She grabbed the bath puff and scrubbed voraciously trying desperately to rid her self of the haunting present of her lover.

She only stopped when her hands began to crack and bleed slightly. She climbed from her bath and falls into a bawling mess on her bed.

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Eight days. Hermione knocked gently on her bedroom door.

"Ginny?" She asked into the dark. "Ginny Ron and I are going to the."Her voice crack painfully. They were going to the funereal. She gave a dry sob but didn't move.

"Well be back later. We'll bring you something to eat." Ginny could tell she'd been crying. Why not? Harry was one of her best friends. Ginny got up and a horrible growl reminder her she hadn't eaten in roughly three days. She when to her kitchen. Keeping her face down in an unspoken ritual of sadness. She dared not look up. Pitchers lined the halls and rooms. A smiling, happy Harry with his arms around a happy, smirking Ginny.

She ate only what she could get down without puking, mostly toast and liquids. She began to get out of bed at a normal time, sleeping more then she used to, but not spending all her time in a bed.

Day thirteen. She braved to go back to work. The women at Saint Mongos were more then happy to have her back, even if she kept to her self and was prone to stop and tune out for up to ten minutes. She wasn't the Ginny Potter they had before, the chipper, life of the office that she was loved for. No one said anything, no, but they whispered and she hated them for it.

Slowly life returned to a somewhat normal routine, even if it was just going through the motions, at least at work she could concentrate on the people who were hurt and not on her own hurt. Hermione and her brother still talker to her, invited her to dinner and what not. She would turn them down as always giving a bright smile and claiming to be swamped by paper work. Witches she usually was. She devoted her self entirely to her work. She was the first to arrive and the last to leave. Her superiors began to notice her work effort and delighted, giving her the position of head healer in charge of spell damage. She plunged into the even more time and thought consuming position with a burning intensity that left the bosses knowing they had put the right person in charge.

Day three hundred and sixty. Ginny walked briskly to her office and called for her assistant.

"Yes Mam'?" She asked.

"Will you bring me McGovern's file please?"

"Yes Mam, um Mam?"

"What?"

"Hermione Weasly is waiting in the lounge." Ginny was surprised to here this and told Amy to send her in.

"Hullo Ginny." Said Hermione, a seven-month belly bulge under a black dress.

"Hi, mione, what's wrong." Asked Ginny as sudden tears began at Hermione eye's.

"You don't even remember?" Hermione asked softly. Ginny looked confused and Hermione gave a little, bitter laugh.

"It's been a year, April fifteenth?" Ginny felt as thought someone hit her in the gut. Her eyes weld up and she lunged at Hermione. She cried uncontrollably into Hermione's shoulder. Her heart tied in a painful knot and she shuttered in her stupidity.

She couldn't go to the graveyard when all this other friends were there. No she would wait. The wait almost killed her, she asked for the day off and she when home. She looked long and hard at the dusty pitchers on the wall, the ones she hadn't seen in a year. She cried, she cried hard but night finally fell.

Part of her didn't want to be here, between the tombstone and willow trees

But she wouldn't leave, she clenched her fists and made her way to the grave.

It was as still as death, as she neared the grave but stopped suddenly. Someone was already there. She breathed deep and ducked behind a large stone.

"I'm here." The person said. At first Ginny thought the person was talking to her. The man was talking to the grave. She stole a look from behind the stone. She gasped and covered her mouth in shook. Draco Malfoy?

"I don't know why I didn't come before. Fear I guess." He gave a sad, bitter laugh. "The great Draco Malfoy afraid. I was, you scared me more then I would ever tell you. I regret not tel-" His voice cracked with emotion. Ginny could do nothing but stand and stare. " I have never been good with expressing my feelings. I wonder if that's why you married her. I'm not mad at you for that anymore. It's hard to hate people who are dead. You always said hate hurt the person who was hating more then the person who was being hated. You were right. You were always right. Oh merlin Harry Potter! Even in death you can get me all worked up, damn you. You were the only person whoever could get me to feel." He was crying!

"I hated you for it, now...now. I just miss you. It's not so bad anymore, but sometimes, like when I'm alone at night I can almost feel you hold me again and Harry...It hurts. Bad, I don't know what I will do. I want so badly to feel you agin. Your skin and." He sobbed. " The way you smell, the way you laugh when I complain and the way you hold me in your arms." He paused and looked around. "I shouldn't stay long. I must go, I..." He stopped again. " I never said it to you and that's the only thing I really regret. I...Harry Potter I love you."

Ginny couldn't help but cry now. Thick streams down her face, of confusion and heartbreak. She fell to the ground and sobbed in to her knees.

"Who's their?" A voice asked. She snarled, she would not be made to feel sorry at her own husbands grave. She stood up, fist clenched.

"I am." She said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She was not prepared for what she saw, the same hollow emptiness that she had seen in her bathrooms mirror, a similar hollow sadness in those clear icy blue eyes. Both of them just stood, staring at each other. Then she turned away.


End file.
